


Undercover

by stew (julie)



Category: The Professionals (TV 1977)
Genre: Episode: s02e05 In the Public Interest, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1991-05-01
Updated: 1991-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23137909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/stew
Summary: Bodie and Doyle are undercover doing work for the Gay Youth Organisation. Which is prompt enough for Doyle to confess that he’s not as uninterested in having sex with another man as Bodie might have supposed…
Relationships: William Bodie/Ray Doyle
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** Set during episode 205 _In the Public Interest_. 
> 
> **First published:** in the zine “Concupiscence” #1 by Manacles Press in May 1991.

# Undercover 

♦

“It’s bloody cold, Bodie,” Ray declared after half an hour of trying to get to sleep. 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I retorted. “Damn fleabag hotel. Did _you_ expect the heating to work?” 

“Bloody Cowley telling us to keep a low profile. Next time it’s the Hilton, I swear it.” He was silent for a long moment. “How many blankets have you got there, Bodie?” Maybe no one but his partner would have heard the suspicion underlying the friendly inquiry. 

“Three,” was my innocent reply. 

“How did you manage that? I’ve only got two.” 

“I know. I chatted up the bird at Reception – but before you follow my lead, I warn you that I got the last spare blanket in the whole hotel, and the bird is not about to share hers. Not even with me,” I added in suitably injured tones. 

“Damn.” Listening to Ray tossing and turning passed a few otherwise uneventful minutes. I could almost feel him shivering – we were in twin beds, but they were less than six inches apart. “Bodie,” he cried out at last, _“I can’t get warm.”_

“That’s the trouble with being all skin and bone, see?” 

“So is all that fat keeping you warm?” 

“I’m not fat!” I protested by rote. “Just cuddly.” Doyle used to get a lot of mileage from the tender topic of my formerly comfortable waistline. These days, now that it was all muscle, the joke just proved what I’d put up with from him. 

“And warm?” he insisted, voice hard. He was an unforgiving sod, my partner. I had to admit that I was far from warm. I was the one who usually felt the cold, after all. “Look,” he said, “I know it’s a tiny bed, but how about letting me hop in with you? Share our body heat and all that.” 

“Sounds like you don’t have any to share.” 

“I’ll bring my blankets with me,” he offered. 

I let out a long sigh. Knowing Doyle, if I didn’t agree, it would be complaints all the long sleepless night and a temper all the next day. And, to be honest, I couldn’t muster much of an argument against. Doyle wasn’t the sort of guy who’d just take no for an answer – he always had to worm the _why_ of it out of you. “All right.” Immediately, he was out of his bed, throwing his blankets over me, and clambering in beside me. I shifted back and onto my side to give him room – not that he needed much, the skinny bugger. “Ray…”

He paused in his flurry of activity. “What?” 

“Don’t you think that this is taking our cover a little far? Bad enough sharing a room together.” 

“Pellin isn’t gay. We never had to be gay.” 

I laughed. “No – just working for the _Gay_ Youth Organization. I bet everyone makes assumptions about Pellin, too, being secretary of the damned thing.” I’d made no secret that I was uncomfortable with the whole idea. I’d even tried telling Cowley that no one would believe I was into that scene. Didn’t get me very far, of course. When the Cow’s got an idea in his head…

“This isn’t anything to do with the cover,” Doyle bit back. “This is about bloody survival in sub-Arctic temperatures. So drop it.” 

“All right, all right.” I wondered what had annoyed him. It hadn’t seemed to bother Doyle at all when Cowley and Pellin had set us up. Knowing I was pushing my luck, I continued, “Just anyone walking in here, finding two naked men in one tiny bed together –” 

“Well, if you wore pyjamas, you wouldn’t be so cold.” 

“Why aren’t you wearing any, then?” I snapped. 

Doyle relented, laughed a little. “Forgot them, didn’t I?” 

“I usually hate wearing them,” I said glumly. “Would have brought some with us if I’d known we’d be sharing, though.” 

We lay there for a while, rigid and cold and barely touching. “So, er… could I get a bit of that body heat then?” Ray asked. “The bed’s not big enough to avoid me all night, you realize.” 

“Yeah, I realize.” I’d just been thinking of the best way to do this – all efficiency, I am. Didn’t want to be lying face to face with him, that was for sure. “Turn over with your back to me,” I ordered. 

After a long moment, he complied, muttering, “Suppose I’d jump off a bloody cliff, too.” 

“O’ course you would, sunshine,” I agreed complacently. He shot me a glare over his shoulder before he settled, so I added very sweetly, “Whose idea was this anyway?” He ignored me. I chuckled and cuddled up to him, spoon fashion. Well, if he wanted body heat, that was what he was going to get. I carefully tucked the blankets in around our shoulders and settled in. “Better?” 

“A little.” He was still shivering, though. “You sleepy?” Doyle asked. 

“No. Too cold still.” 

“Talk to me, then. Pass the time.” 

“Talk about what?” 

“That red-head,” Doyle suggested. “Get your blood pumping. Tell me about her.” 

“Ah… the lovely Belinda.” That was a thought that had me smiling. I pulled Doyle closer, lying back a little with him across me. It was odd, but I never would have guessed I’d feel even close to comfortable with him in my bed with me. “She’s a nice one, right enough. Been seeing her for five weeks now.”

“She must have faults, Bodie, if you were going to pass her on to me.” 

“No faults. Just seemed more like your type than mine.” 

“Turning generous in your old age?” Even Doyle was relaxed now, though he still had his arms wrapped firmly around his chest, and his skin was still cool against mine. 

“She’s nice – good conversation, great dancer, sense of humour, _and_ excellent between the covers.” 

“So what’s the problem?” 

I sighed. I’d been honest with my partner before, and it hadn’t hurt. So far. “Me. I’m the problem. We might have a heap of fun, but I’m not the sort she’d get serious about – and I reckon you might be. You’d like each other. She paints, too, for a start. That’s why I haven’t introduced you yet. I wanted my fair share.” 

“Playing Cupid again? You _must_ be getting old – not only generous with your birds, but sentimental as well?” Ray was silent for a while. “Give me some details. Just how excellent _is_ she between the covers?” 

I chuckled and tightened my arms around his torso. It was nice to be talking sex with Doyle, with my hands on his warming flesh. “Did I say between the covers? Slip of the tongue. Mostly we do it on the kitchen table or on the –” I stopped abruptly. “You’re no gentleman. It’s not fair to give details about a lady I might be passing on. Not nice at all. Belinda would not approve.” 

“The table or the _what?”_ Doyle quickly insisted, shifting a little in my arms so that he could turn and see my face. “Come on, Bodie, you can’t leave me in suspense.” 

“Oh, can’t I?” I returned primly. 

“I brought my thumbscrews, you know.” 

“Goody!” I gripped him hard and declared, “You know how I love them.” 

“Lord, you are kinky, aren’t you? Sounds like Belinda would be a bit much for me.” 

“No, you’d cope,” I assured him. Ray was determined to know, however, so I eventually caved in. “The merry-go-round down the fair near my place last week.” 

“What!?” He hadn’t been expecting that. 

“Paid the guy to turn the other way. It was late, after the fair had closed down.” 

“And…?” Doyle prompted. “On one of the horses?” 

“On one of the horses. You can imagine the rest.” But I couldn’t help myself – I leant close to lustily whisper in his ear, “I rode the horse, and Belinda…” 

“…rode you.” Doyle always was quick on the uptake. He considered the scenario for a moment. “And was that all your idea?” 

“She said I had a wicked imagination.” 

“That was polite of her. Still, sounds like I could cope very nicely with Belinda,” Doyle mused. He turned his back to me again, snuggling in comfortably. “Warmer?” he asked me. 

“Yeah. The red-head did the trick all right.” 

“Well, just remember that’s my backside down there, and not hers,” he said good-naturedly. 

“That skinny little thing? I couldn’t mistake it for anyone else’s, believe me.” 

“Great. It’s keeping your pride and joy toasty warm, and all it gets are insults.” 

I’d been about to retort – _What does it want to get?_ – but I was stopped in my tracks. By the realization that I _was_ warm, hot in fact, and that my rather hungry pride and joy was quite enjoying the flesh it was pressed against. Despite the flesh being Ray’s narrow arse. “You want compliments?” I asked lightly, trying to keep the conversation on a normal footing, and therefore probably blowing it entirely. “I’ve noticed the birds noticing your arse – it’s incredibly neat. But then, the birds notice most things about you.” 

“Until they see my ugly mug.” 

“Don’t be an idiot. You should adopt a more ruthless attitude, that’s all. You’re not hard-hearted enough.” 

“No, I’m not hard-hearted when it comes to love,” Doyle said. “Don’t want to be, either.” 

“Well, if you’re not pulling the birds, it isn’t due to your face.” Ray was silent. While his body was warmer (of course it was, with me and five blankets wrapped around him) the vibes he was radiating were definitely colder than they had been two minutes previously. “Belinda will convince you better than I could.” He was still silent. I hugged him close. “Come on, sunshine, don’t mope. Not used to my bed-mates moping, you know, or thinking that they’re ugly.” 

“I get the distinct impression that this is a whole new experience for you.” 

“Sleeping in the altogether with another fellow? You’re not wrong. I hope you appreciate the privilege.” 

“Yeah, I do.” But he still didn’t sound happy. 

“You warm now? You want to go back to your own bed?” 

“No,” Doyle whispered. Then he cleared his throat and continued too loudly in compensation. “If you don’t mind, that is. All the inconvenience.” 

“Shut up and go to sleep, you idiot.” I said it fondly, but there was no response. I settled back with him still firmly in my arms. “Good night, Ray.” 

“Night, Bodie.” Which was better than nothing. 

♦

The following morning, Doyle had bathed and dressed before I’d even thought about struggling to the surface. In some ways it was a bad habit to have developed, but since I’d returned to England I’d slowly and surely begun to enjoy waking at my leisure whenever humanly possible (preferably with a bird around as well, to make me coffee and otherwise indulge me). Sheer luxury, it was, and I loved every minute of it. 

When I finally opened my eyes that morning, I saw Doyle sitting on his own bed, leaning back against the wall and looking moody. “Miserable bloody town, this,” he greeted me with. 

“Cheer up, sunshine. You’re going to be run out of it soon.” 

“Looking forward to that. It’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to me here.” 

“Other than losing your virginity to Annette the dance hall girl, of course.” I stretched out, throwing him a cheeky look. Considering the fact that nine-tenths of me was still asleep, God knows how it came across. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, still looking unhappy. 

“As bad as that, eh? My first time wasn’t exactly a glowing success, either. Still – try, try, try again as they say.” 

“And you did,” he responded, exactly in time with my, “And I did.” We shared a smile – we were always doing that these days. “Great minds think alike,” Doyle concluded. 

“Cowley would say that, in this case, little minds rarely differ.” 

“True. You thinking about getting out of bed sometime during the daylight hours?” 

“I’ll give it my earnest consideration.” 

“Easy work today, just setting up the office. You can cope with that, stud.” 

I could indeed. We had fun, actually, lugging around cartons and pamphlets, and calling each other “ducky” and “sweetheart”. Once the office was looking occupied, we left it open and hid out behind some cars round a street corner to see what eventuated. Doyle sat gracefully cross-legged on the pavement, fiddling with the camera that Cowley had issued us with. 

“Nice to afford one of these, telephoto lens and all,” he said wistfully. 

“Just don’t drool on it – you’ll make the film go blotchy.”

“Couldn’t have that now, could we? Quite spoil the composition of the shot. Think I’ll call this exhibit _A Visit to the Gay Youth Organization Offices, Complete with Masked Thugs_.” 

_“How Cops Pass Their Spare Time,”_ I further subtitled the evidence. 

“Spare time? I reckon this is routine duty,” Doyle said disgustedly. “Stinks like last week’s fish.” 

“Pellin seemed pretty harmless. Surprised he had the nerve to take it so far here.” 

“The man has principles, Bodie – that gives him nerve. And that’s exactly what this town can’t afford to let in. Cowley’s principles are going to be the end of Green’s little idyll.” 

“Yeah.” I squatted down beside Doyle, keeping an eye out. It was a quiet back street, but the cops had already spotted us toting cartons around, so it was going to liven up pretty soon. 

“You ever thought about it?” 

I turned to look at Doyle, who was still engrossed with the camera. “What – principles? You should know me better than that.” 

Doyle shot me a grin before ducking his head again. “I meant, about making it with another guy.” After a few moments of silence, he said lightly, “Just curious.” 

“I haven’t run out of women yet,” I said when I finally found my voice. Doyle could really knock you for six when you least expected it. 

“Meaning if you did, you’d think about men maybe?” It was a serious question to my flippant remark. 

“Don’t know. I’ll let you know if it ever happens.” A defensive edge had crept into my voice, and I didn’t bother to hide it. 

“Didn’t mean to offend. All this just got me thinking.” At least Ray was looking at me now. He was frowning. 

“All _what?”_ I asked suspiciously. 

Doyle laughed at me. “Not last night, you great prat. I meant going undercover in the Gay Youth Organization. Don’t worry, your macho reputation is still perfectly safe.” 

“OK, so I’m touchy about it. People love spouting the theory that the men who go overboard with the women are the ones who are trying to hide something.” 

“Well, you certainly go overboard with the women, Bodie.” 

“Guilty as charged – but the rest doesn’t follow. And it’s not that I haven’t had offers, either. Just not interested.” 

“Don’t you ever wonder?” And Doyle admitted, “I do.” 

I swept him with a comprehensive leer. I could easily believe that my partner’s lithe strength and beautiful face would be much in demand in certain quarters. He’d be as attractive to the guys as he was to the girls. Just look at that arse, for a start. “Bet _you’ve_ had offers.” 

Doyle laughed again. “Plenty of them. Some were tempting.” 

“So why didn’t you? I mean, if you wonder about it?” 

“Don’t know.” He shrugged. “Too scared and prudish when I was young, and not desperate enough since, I guess.” After a moment he added, “Next time someone decent offers, I reckon I might try it. Maybe.” 

“You’re putting me on.” 

“No.” Doyle looked up at me, his honesty disarming. “I reckon I’m finally old enough and wise enough to stop worrying about the consequences. If I don’t like it, then it doesn’t matter a damn, really, does it? I’ll have my curiosity satisfied at least.” 

My mind was racing, though firmly stuck in neutral. “Why are you telling me all this?” I ended up asking faintly. 

Doyle shrugged again, and shifted to lean back against a wall. “None of your business, is it? I just wondered what you thought, that’s all. Should have known.” 

“What?” 

“You wouldn’t be interested.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” I protested, on the defensive again. 

“In guys – not interested in other guys.” Ray wouldn’t look at me. I had the alarming idea that he meant not just guys in general, but him specifically. I just stood there for the longest moment, wondering how on earth to say to the man, _Don’t even joke about it._

A squeal of tyres interrupted the uncomfortable silence, and two unmarked cop cars came around the corner and parked outside our offices. Doyle, standing behind a van, took a few photos as six men with stockings over their faces poured through the front door and came out again within moments. “Spoiled their fun, we did,” I observed. “Waste of an outing.” 

“That’s OK, they can belt us up tomorrow instead. The anticipation will add to their excitement.” He bent to pick up the camera bag. 

“Come on, let’s lock up here, then we can get some lunch.” 

“OK.” I obediently followed my partner back to the office, and then up the road to our car. It was odd to think of Doyle giving in to temptation with some other guy. Really odd. But typical, in a way – I mean, it didn’t really surprise me, on the whole, that he would so coolly consider it. He was too bloody open-minded for his own good sometimes. 

“What do you want for lunch?” he asked me now. “Wake up, Bodie – I’m talking _food_. That’s better. I feel like some good heavy pasta, myself, somewhere fancy.” 

“Who’s paying?” 

“Cowley, of course. We’ll tell him it was research. I noticed a nice little Italian place over on Croydon Street.” 

“All right.” We were silent, then, as Doyle drove us closer into town, and we walked to the restaurant. Being early, the place was almost empty. We settled into a dark booth down the back, away from the few other customers. 

“What are you brooding about?” Doyle eventually asked me as we downed our first glasses of Chianti. 

I sighed. “Miserable town, like you said.” 

“You’re not wrong, sunshine.” But he didn’t seem as unhappy about it as he had that morning. 

“Just don’t go trying to satisfy your curiosity around here,” I said. “Likely to give you twenty years for a little misdemeanour like that. Can’t have perverts like you walking the streets, Ray. Come to think of it,” I continued, looking him over, “faced with you, they’d probably throw away the key.” 

“I’m not even going to ask what you mean by that…” 

“Danger to society as we know it, mate, that’s what you are.” I didn’t want to think about Doyle letting himself loose on the queer scene. They could, after all, resist anything but temptation. 

“Sure, Bodie. Anyhow, I haven’t had a decent offer here, that’s for sure, and I’m certainly not going to continue my research in the prison’s shower block.” 

“Ray!” He rarely shocked me, but his triumphant grin now recognized his victory. “So what are you planning on doing?” I asked, unable to react to his growing humour. 

“Give it a rest, mate. What’s with the morbid curiosity?” 

“Not curious,” I protested. “Just worried about my fool of a partner. Go on, tell me. What’s the next step on the agenda?” 

“Nothing. Just wait and see what happens. I’m the patient sort.” 

“Could have fooled me.” 

“Not in other things, maybe. But when it comes to love, I’m not hard-hearted and I’m not impatient.” 

“Didn’t think we were talking about _love_ ,” I said, sounding petulant even to myself. 

“That’s the difference between us – one of the many,” he added as I lifted a sarcastic eyebrow. “You think of sex, I think of love.” 

“Don’t tell me that you might end up with a boyfriend out of all this,” I said, feeling absolutely disgusted. 

Doyle just shrugged. “Anything’s possible!” 

My partner might have recently discovered the delights of startling me, but I wasn’t about to let him affect my appetite. I put the entire unwholesome idea out of my head, and tucked into my lasagne. After eyeing me oddly for a moment, Doyle just shrugged and started in on his own. 

♦

For the rest of the day, we hung around, trying to generally observe without drawing attention to ourselves. 

I was amazed to discover that Pellin had been right about one thing – there was not a single girlie magazine to be found in town, tame or otherwise. There I was in desperate need of some inspiration, too. I was all tensed up and dying for relief, even in the simple form of some naughty pictures and my ever-faithful right hand, but my imagination seemed to have completely short-circuited. I couldn’t think of one fantasy, remember one adventure, or spy one bird that would quite fit the bill, and my hand alone wasn’t enough, as I discovered at the first opportunity. Our cover put me in a real bind, too. While the cops had to be the only people who knew we were (temporarily) part of the Gay Youth Organization, I couldn’t risk seducing a bird on the off chance that they might find out about it and start getting suspicious. Which would blow our cover and bring the Minister down on Cowley, and Cowley would… It didn’t bear thinking about. 

Doyle, meanwhile, seemed to be as restless and dissatisfied as I was. We finally grew bored enough to decide to spend the evening at a movie. Rather than argue about which one, we tossed a coin to see who would choose. I won, but it was a bloody poor selection anyhow. We sat up the back and, if it wasn’t for Doyle’s obligatory tub of popcorn which I had to help him munch through, I probably would have dozed off. 

We got back to the hotel a little after ten. “Heating fixed yet?” Doyle asked the girl. “And if not, have you any spare blankets?” 

“Neither, sorry.” 

“It was like Siberia in our room last night,” Doyle informed her. She wore exactly the same indifferent face in reply to that as she had to our attempts at humour the previous day. She’d barely even batted an eyelid last night when I’d turned all my considerable charm on her in order to get that extra blanket. 

Complaining under his breath, Doyle headed for the stairs. I stopped dead in my tracks, oblivious to the girl, to the hotel, to the miserable bloody town we were in. Oblivious to all creation, except for the fact that the heating wasn’t fixed yet. 

“Ray!” I ran up the stairs and into Doyle as he was letting himself into our room. Slamming the door closed behind us, I leant against the wall. Doyle’s fingers, trying to find the light switch in the dark, groped across my chest. 

“Bodie, what are you doing?” 

“Nothing, I –” Except that, in the dark, he’d assume that this was all much more serious than it was. Numbly, I turned and found the light switch. At least the lights worked. “I don’t want to share a bed with you tonight,” I said, still facing the wall. “Wouldn’t be comfortable.” 

“Come off it, Bodie, I’ll freeze to death. What’s wrong? Last night was OK.” 

“Yeah. I’m just too keyed up tonight. Wouldn’t be right.” 

“You were keyed up last night, too, sunshine. If you didn’t notice, _I_ sure as hell did.” Doyle sounded distinctly amused. 

“I, er… wouldn’t want to make you an offer that you couldn’t refuse.” Funny how I always blurted out the truth to Ray these days. He was almost as bad as the Cow for that. 

_“Couldn’t_ refuse?” Now he just sounded annoyed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Bodie. You always did have more vanity than sense.” 

I turned. He was scowling ferociously, but his anger seemed to be directed more within himself than at me. “You’ve thought about it,” I told him. “With me. That’s what you were on about this morning.” 

“So what?” he retorted belligerently. “I’ve thought about it with a lot of blokes, and none of them have got lucky yet. Forget about it, Bodie.” 

“I can’t,” I said, voice strained. Doyle looked over at me, as surprised as I was. In the last five minutes I had progressed without volition from thinking that l wanted to avoid an uncomfortable night’s sleep, to knowing that I wanted my friend’s company in my bed. More than his company. I could feel my face pale under his examination. 

“What’s this about, Bodie?” Doyle asked, voice suspicious and bordering on upset. “Haven’t run out of women yet, have you?” 

“I don’t know what it’s about. What’s it about when _you_ think of another guy?” 

“Answer me! You needn’t think that I’d hop into bed with you just on your whim.” 

I thought back over the past twenty-four hours. It was difficult. Birds never asked for analysis, or if they did they were content with clichés. “Last night – it was nice to be holding you.” 

“You mean I had something to do with you being keyed up? It wasn’t just remembering Belinda and the merry-go-round?” 

“Not just Belinda. And I’ve been feeling the same ever since. Except that I didn’t know what had caused it. Or what to do about it. Until just then.” Doyle continued to look highly sceptical, and my embarrassment grew to anger. “Aren’t I good enough, Ray? What did you say – the next decent guy that offers? I swallow my pride and my revulsion and acknowledge that I want you, and what do I get in return? Not even a thank you. Sorry I even mentioned it, princess.” 

“Keep your bloody pride, then,” Doyle snapped back at me. Then he lowered his voice to a hiss as one of our neighbours belted the adjoining wall. “Just because no one else ever turns you down doesn’t mean I’m obliged to indulge your whim of the moment. Especially as you’re so _revolted_ at the thought of me.” 

“You can’t expect me to just happily accept the idea. I’ve been dead against it all my life!” 

“I might have wanted you to accept it, Bodie, but I never expected you to jump on the bandwagon as well.” 

“So why tell me in the first place?” 

“So it wouldn’t be a complete shock to you when it finally happened.” 

“You’re a liar, and you’re spineless. You’re all talk. You never meant to take up any of those offers.” 

“I did – the next _decent_ guy,remember? Why should you think _you_ qualify? I’ve seen how you treat people – birds. You repulse me, with all your one-night-stands. You’ve never cared for anyone in your life. Why would I ever want to sleep with you? Why would I let you use me like you use your birds?” 

Closing my eyes against his tirade which rang all too true, I said quietly, “You can’t explain it when you want someone. It just happens sometimes. The motive and the opportunity and the means all coincide.” I took a step closer to my partner, met his gaze. “I want you.” 

Doyle backed away. “You can explain it when you _don’t_ want someone,” he insisted. “I don’t want to be just another easy lay for you, Bodie. I’m worth more than that.” 

“So, this decent guy that you’re waiting for, what’s he going to be treating you like? Just the same, I reckon, a one-nighter. And you won’t want any ties other than the sex, just in case you want to get free of him the next day.” 

“Exactly,” Doyle said, clutching at this argument like a drowning man. “Couldn’t get free from you, could I?” 

“You wouldn’t have to,” I replied in my most reasonable tones. “I’m only offering the sex, and I’m only offering it for tonight. No strings attached.” I was slowly but relentlessly pacing towards him, and my partner was backing away from me on automatic, matching my every step. 

Doyle said, a little sulkily, “Don’t want it with someone who doesn’t even know what they’re doing. I want someone who’s gay, who knows how to make me feel good.” 

“I know what makes _me_ feel good – let me do that to you.” 

He reached the opposite wall, seemed surprised to find me now gaining ground on him, stalking the prey that had nowhere else to run to. Those long fingers of Doyle’s splayed out against the painted plaster by each hip, as if he could push back through it and make good his escape. “No, Bodie…” he murmured. 

“Come on, sunshine, let’s give it a go.” 

“You’re into rape, are you?” he snapped at me. 

“Not at all.” I was close to my partner now, close to his dependable wiry strength, his perfectly sculpted slimness that I’d seen birds fit to die for, his familiar masculine scent. Before Ray could suspect me, I crept under his guard and wound my arms around his waist. “But I am into sex.” 

“You bastard,” Doyle muttered, bringing his hands up against my shoulders. But he didn’t try to push me away. Leaning his head back against the wall, he eyed me warily. He looked beautiful, fey, like a wild thing that would run a hundred miles if I let him go. My blood stirred, and I forgot all my own confusion and objections. Ray said, “Sometimes I feel that you’re the simplest creature on earth, Bodie, and sometimes I feel that I’ve never understood you.” He sighed. “Why does it have to be this way?” 

“Because we’re both so chicken. And pig-headed.” 

Doyle laughed a little. Then he said, seriously, “I don’t want to feel you’re forcing me. You’re too good at getting me on the defensive.” 

“So give in to me, stop fighting me.” 

“I’m not giving in to your machismo, Bodie. You wouldn’t give in if I was treating you like this.” 

“True.” This wasn’t like the conquest of some bird, this didn’t prove anything about my masculinity. I bowed my head for a moment, trying to find something within me that Ray would like – a little humility rather than overbearing pride, a little respect to temper my blind hunger, a little honesty instead of certainty. And, to my surprise, a peace that I’d never known before settled over me. I looked up, with an effort at keeping my expression open. “I’m sorry, Ray. This should be two friends meeting, not me forcing you, not either of us being unsure. You’re right.”

“Don’t, Bodie…” 

He seemed scared, but I was, too. “I don’t want to let you go, but I will, I’ll risk you running out on me. Lord, I want you so bad, Ray.” 

“I won’t run out on you,” Doyle whispered. Then he said, “Give me that damnable mouth.” And he kissed me. 

♦

When I woke the next morning, Doyle was again dressed and ready for the day, sitting on his bed. This time, however, he looked incredibly cheerful. I watched him for a while, feeling disgustingly content myself. There was the same sense of self-satisfaction as after any other one-night-stand, but there was something else as well. Something to do with having made love to a friend on equal terms, something to do with the warmth of Ray’s embraces, and the fact that we had put ourselves in a difficult situation and made it work. Gloriously so. Hell of a partnership, this. I eased an arm out from under the blankets and grasped his closest hand in mine. “Morning, sunshine,” I said. 

Doyle looked down at me, smiling, clasping my hand easily. “Morning, Bodie.” 

“At last! The day we get run out of town. Been looking forward to this.” 

“Let’s get down there, eh?” He frowned a little, but nothing could dispel the smile. “Let’s get to work.” 

“All right.” I clambered out of bed and stretched, then pottered around getting my clothes and stuff together, naked as the day I was born. I could feel Doyle’s eyes on me, appreciative and amused, and that was worth all the goosebumps. 

“You don’t have to put on a show for me, you know, especially in this weather. I’m almost as convinced as you about how gorgeous you are.” 

“That good?” 

“That good – much as I hate to pander to that ego of yours.” 

“I’d given up on you showing such good taste in lovers.” I ducked the pillow he threw at me, and began to draw on a pair of trousers, ready to escape to the bathroom down the hall. “Hey, we should set up a plaque. _Here, in this very town, Ray Doyle lost his virginity twice over_.” I heard his evil chuckle, and ran. 

That day at the office was as fun as the previous one, setting up things for the farewell party the cops were going to throw us. When we were ready, I changed into a nice white shirt and sat behind the desk to be the meek and mild bait, while Doyle lounged around half in and half out of the cupboard with his beloved camera. 

“Just get them in time, won’t you?” I asked plaintively. 

“Bodie…” He sounded exasperated. 

“Don’t want my back to look like Pellin’s. I’ve got some very interesting scars –” 

“I noticed,” Doyle murmured with a quiet laugh. 

“– and lashes across my back would be too mundane by comparison.” 

“Don’t worry, sunshine, I’ll stop them in time.” That’s when we heard the familiar squeal of brakes outside. Doyle hid. 

A man with a stocking over his head burst in and called me “darling”, closely followed by four mates all similarly attired. I managed to look worried rather than irate, tried to run, let them hold me face to the wall. They tore my shirt up the back – which is when Doyle took a photograph of the scene. When I turned, I saw the first guy holding a whip – not just a belt like with Pellin. Nasty. We took a few snapshots and their police ID’s and let them go. 

_“Darling,”_ I murmured to the leader as he headed out the door. Then I yelled after them down the corridor, “At least I don’t run around in stockings!” 

“Not yet, anyway,” Doyle commented cheekily. “Give it time.” 

I swung on him, angry. “Don’t you start –” 

“All right, all right, I was only kidding. Didn’t think you’d still be touchy about it.” Doyle shrugged, looking truly apologetic. Which was why it took me a moment to react when he added, “But you might look good in a suspender belt.” 

“Dream on, sweetheart,” I said, grinning in automatic response to his mischievous teasing. Which was when Doyle suddenly looked uncomfortable and turned away. Tentatively, I asked, “You going to be dreaming about me, Ray?” 

He started gathering up the evidence, absently busy. “I don’t know. It was good, Bodie. Damned good.” 

“That’s what the birds reckon,” I said smugly. 

“It’s not just the birds now, though, is it?” 

“It might not be for you,” I protested. 

Doyle nodded knowingly. “Last night – it was just sex, then, like you said. Just that and no more.” 

“That’s what we agreed.” I watched him for a while, and read the tense set of his shoulders. “What else do you want?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Ray…” I knew that we had to get out of there – we were sitting ducks if the cops were smart enough to come back for a further visit. But l couldn’t just cut this conversation short. I walked up close behind him. “Come on, out with it. Whatever’s on your mind. You know neither of us will have any peace otherwise.” 

“I just liked it, like I said. If you don’t want to do it again, I might find some guy who does.” 

There was one hell of a defensive tone in his voice. I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face me. “You liked the sex? Or you liked _me?”_

Doyle tried to out-stare me, but ended up ducking his head and admitting, “Both.” 

“Ah, sunshine,” I muttered uneasily. It wasn’t meant to be like this. No strings, just a few warm memories, that’s what I’d planned. 

“Yeah, I know it’s stupid,” Doyle said. 

“Liking me isn’t stupid,” I protested. “It’s inevitable.” 

“It’s stupid when you’re my partner, and straight to boot.” 

“It’s the most natural thing in the world,” I murmured. My hands were gripping his shoulders so hard that they began to cramp. After a moment I began to knead his skin through the shirt, trying to ease the bruises I’d probably caused, trying to think. He was watching me, green eyes sharp but wary. At this stage he usually asked me what I was mulling over because he could hear the gears grinding. 

It was a difficult process, but I seemed to be discovering some home truths about myself. Truths that, until last night, I hadn’t wanted to face. Doyle and me – it was truly inevitable. Shocking perhaps but, in the end, unavoidable. 

“God, but you’re a sweet one, Ray. Got through to me when I wasn’t even looking.” 

He lifted his head in surprise at my words, my tone of voice. 

“But for now, let’s get out of here. We can discuss this back home, OK?” 

“OK.” He sounded thoroughly bewildered, but finished packing up the evidence while I changed out of the ruined shirt. By then, it was too late – the police had arrived. 

We ran, and ended up trapped in some run-down old factory, surrounded. They were nothing if not determined, this lot. Doyle thought it was the safest bet for all concerned to simply surrender, so we did. That would have been fine, except that Chives turned up, insisting that our CI5 ID’s were fakes. Despite our protests and a brief struggle, Doyle and I ended up handcuffed and taking a short ride in the back of Chives’ car. It seemed that we were evidence he wished to dispose of. 

I looked over at Ray as we sped through a country lane. He looked back, serious. He cared for me, loathed that we might die like this. Over the years Doyle’s face had become so easy for me to read. I found it hard to believe that it would be a sordid, crooked cop like Chives who would accomplish what so many had failed at. Neither of us deserved death at his hands. 

After a moment Doyle grimaced, and turned away from my gaze. For a while, he tried to make Chives see the uselessness of killing us, but even Ray wasn’t going to talk us out of this one. 

When he gave up on Chives, I pressed my leg against his, which drew a bittersweet smile from him. I grew oddly warm inside, full of all that humility and respect and honesty that Ray had made me discover within myself. I tried to show him all that in _my_ face – and he could read me, because for one ghastly moment I thought he was going to weep. “Sometimes I surprise even myself,” I murmured. 

“Sometimes you surprise me, too, mate,” he said. 

Chives shot us a rather pointed look. 

We were saved by the one good copper in town. Doyle looked like the cop was his baby. Bloody lucky, I reckoned – but then I always knew that I led a charmed life. 

♦

Doyle drove us back home to London in silence, and I patiently waited through the hours of the journey and then through our verbal report to Cowley and the Minister. 

Despite what he’d said, Doyle seemed to have forgotten that we had some unfinished business between us. Even when I invited myself up to his place when we were done with Cowley, he didn’t seem to make anything unusual of it. I don’t know why – for my part, I was itching to get close to him. 

Not that I didn’t think it was all pretty strange. In fact, if the previous night hadn’t proved to me how magnificent we could be in bed together, I might have successfully ignored a few truths for one hell of a lot longer. As it was… l was planning on jumping him on a regular basis for the rest of our lives. And if Doyle didn’t like it, he’d have to learn to deal with it. 

“Well, that was your standard life-threatening situation,” I commented when we were at last alone. “If Chives hadn’t been there, we probably would have declared our undying love for each other, thinking that it was our last opportunity.” 

Doyle looked somewhat taken aback. “Saved you the trouble of recanting, then, didn’t it?” 

“Recanting, sweetheart? I was simply wondering how to go about it now. I’m like a writer – I need a deadline to make the words flow.” 

“Bodie…” he said in his most warning tone. 

“Let’s give it a go, eh? You and me, mate.” I took a step towards him and, like the previous night, he backed off. This time, though, his smile matched mine. I was home and dry, sunshine, home and dry. 

♦


End file.
